


Motivation of a Champion

by softvanillavoca



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Brotp, Chris and Victor are friends, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Hilarity, Misunderstandings, Pre-Canon, Shaving, rated for innuendo and references to male genitals, with a sprinkle of surprise angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 10:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10216457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softvanillavoca/pseuds/softvanillavoca
Summary: “You know, if someone had told 15-year old me that one day I'd have Victor Nikiforov kneeling between my legs and still sport a dick as limp as a noodle, I would’ve called them crazy.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my lovely beta, [lovelytitania](http://lovelytitania.tumblr.com/) @ tumblr

“Chris, hold still! I can't do it if you move so much...”

Victor grumbled, feeling quite justified in doing so considering the way his hands had turned so sticky and his face had gotten almost trapped between Chris's thighs, which had become quite thick and muscled compared to the last time he was in a position to examine them this closely. He'd whistle to show his appreciation for such an aesthetically pleasing sight, but it's probably wise not to stroke Christophe's ego any further. Among other things.

“Victor, I don't think any man on this earth would be completely unaffected if Victor Nikiforov grabbed onto their dick, gay or no.”

“Well maybe I wouldn't have lost my balance if you weren't squirming so much. Now sit still and let me get back to work.” Victor bit his lips lightly, tasting the thin layer of the borrowed lip balm that tasted too much like mint. He hated mint. “Maybe hold onto it yourself so you don't slap my face with it.”

“Gotcha~” Chris laughed, but did as Victor asked. “You know, if someone had told 15-year old me that one day I'd have Victor Nikiforov kneeling between my legs and still sport a dick as limp as a noodle, I would’ve called them crazy.”

“Well it's much easier to keep your head out of the gutter when your family jewels are this close to a sharp object, isn't it?” Victor waved the pink razor around (he had been amused when Chris had shared his collection of Men's razors of that particular color) to make his point as he rubbed the shaving cream around Chris's genitalia using his other hand still sticky from the shaving oil. “I still can't believe we agreed to this, just how did drunk me think this would be a good way to motivate ourselves for Worlds?”

Chris shrugged, twitching just a little from the cool sensation of the cream, causing the waterproof polythene sheet below his ass to make a crumpling sound. “Beats me. I'm not sure myself whether it makes sense to have you give me a pubic hair grooming service when you're the one who won, but I suppose you're glad that you're not the one risking possible damage to your private parts.”

“Hmph. Don't tempt me unless you want my hand to, you know, _slip and catch something_.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” For all his talk, Chris's expression was quite relaxed, nowhere as worried about the wellbeing of his crotch as he claimed to be. Both of them were still in their bathrobes—Chris’s completely untied in front—Chris having taken a bath earlier to soften his skin for the shave and Victor just because. “So, what're your plans for the off-season?”

Victor chuckled as he gently glided the razor along the area close to the shaft. “Seriously? You want to talk at a time like this? Are you not worried about distracting me?”

“Well, it does seem like it's going take you a while—not that I'm complaining—so why not?” Chris grinned, carefully reaching towards the bedside table for the glass of Champagne he had poured beforehand. Ah, Pol Roger. Good shit. “Are you going to stay in Russia, or are you finally going to utilize the massive amount of rest days you've saved up? My offer still stands, you know.”

Victor's laugh was slightly dry as he replied, his gaze not leaving the area he was shaving, “I'm amazed at how you never get tired of inviting me. I would've lost patience a long time ago if I were you.”

“It's not that I don't understand your circumstances, Victor. I'm not happy about them, yes, but I understand.” Although it was common knowledge how grueling the season after recovering from an injury was, Victor was still grateful that his friend didn't fault him for being too busy for social calls. “I'll be happy to have you visit Switzerland at any time, and if you start missing the ice in the middle of the vacation—which I have no doubt a skating maniac like you will—my coach is more than willing to temporarily accommodate you to our rink.”

Chris looked like he was waiting for the polite refusal that Victor always gave him. For a moment Victor contemplated doing just that, but in the end he just looked up briefly to meet Chris's gaze and said, “I'll think about it.”

“Really?” Chris was surprised enough to give a small start. Victor hissed a warning in response, and narrowly avoided leaving a cut on the skin above Chris's dick. 

“Hey! I said to stay still!” His expression was a mix of a glare and a pout as he reached for the shaving cream again. “It's not that surprising, is it? My personal life just happens to be extraordinarily dull this season, and now that I've gotten gold at Worlds, Yakov will probably stop breathing down my neck 24/7. Thanks to that I’ll probably have a pretty free schedule this summer.” He gestured with his hand and Chris pulled his dick downward, allowing Victor to shave upward to the navel.

“Translation: you're bored and single right now, and the idea of a summer tryst with a handsome Swiss bachelor sounds good to you!” Chris grinned at him and made a kissy face, and was humored with a wink by the silver-haired man between his legs, who immediately went back to lathering more cream on his crotch. “Imagine the blast the gossip magazines are going to have from this.”

Victor snorted. “As if they ever needed an excuse. Every time we get together to celebrate after competitions there's at least a dozen articles on how we must be fucking, half of them cooing over ‘a secret romance’—”

“Why would it be a secret? We're both consenting adults here—”

“—no clue, and the other half raving about the dangerous charm of playboys and whatnot. As far as they're convinced we've been having sex ever since we met, which frankly is kind of disgusting considering you were fifteen back then.” Victor paused for a bit in his efforts to make a dramatically sad gesture with the back of one hand (maybe a little dangerous since he was still holding the razor) on his forehead, “Ah, it feels just like yesterday when you were still so small and cute, happily running through pretty meadows of Switzerland in spring…”

A small clump of shaving cream glided down the razor to fall on Victor’s nose, bringing his melodrama to an impromptu halt. Chris roared in laughter while Victor violently rubbed his nose with a tissue, making a disgusted face at the dark brown pubic hairs clearly noticeable against the white color.

“Too bad for you, this Swiss boy is _all grown up_ now, in every sense of the word.” Chris leered at Victor and dared to wriggle his hips a little since the other man hadn’t restarted the shaving yet, earning him a glare that was too fake to be intimidating. “And perfectly willing and legal to help poor, lonely Russian men who for some reason have chosen to torture themselves with celibacy despite being the second finest piece of ass in the whole figure skating world.”

Victor laughed. “Thanks, Chris. Now go back to holding up your dick, a little bit to the right side this time.”

Chris huffed and took a big swig of his Champagne. “Wow, Nikiforov. That was so smooth, as expected of the man always dominating the ‘Top 10 Hottest Athletes’ rankings. Consider me seduced!” Chris’s tone was just as dramatic as Victor’s from earlier, though he couldn’t do the hand gesture due to the fact that one of his hands had his dick in its grip and the other was holding onto his glass. Even though he was being sarcastic, his words lacked any real bite and his eyes twinkled with mirth. Reassured, Victor smiled and went back to his work.

He really appreciated how easy it was to be with Chris. Victor had known that the Swiss skater had nursed a crush on him when they were younger, and as his sexuality had bloomed (his senior debut short program has been rumored to be featured in several pornographic sites) that crush had evolved into a mix of deep curiosity and attraction. Victor hadn’t felt like reciprocating his interest because even though he found the other man pleasant company, he wasn’t Victor’s type. After several failed relationships Victor had realized how much of a clingy, romantic man he was (too excitable, too immature, too in love with skating, never what they wanted), and had no desire to entertain a thrill-seeker like Christophe who appeared to be too interested in new experiences and not enough in long-term commitments.

Victor had felt slightly guilty in the first stages of their friendship when his rejections to any truly sexual acts had confused Chris with a flash of something like hurt in his eyes, but nowadays they seemed to be exactly the same page. Even though he was still blatant in his admiration of Victor’s physical attractiveness, he always delivered his innuendos, dirty as they were, in a light hearted manner that showed Victor didn’t have to sleep with him just to be worth his attention, that Victor meant more to him than a past idol and a possible conquest, that Victor could say no and still keep his friendship. Lately Victor was beginning to think he had been too harsh in his previous evaluation of Christophe considering how much of a loyal friend he had proved to be, but the affection he had developed towards the man was too platonic for their flirting to be anything more than a private joke between two old friends with similar inappropriate sense of humor.

As evidenced by the limp penis a few inches in front of his nose, he supposed.

In the middle of his internal monologue Victor had managed to shave both sides of the penis and the scrotum, and only the area in between them was left. Chris had let him work in silence so far, but his Champagne glass was empty now and he seemed to have gotten bored.

“So, Victor,” Chris said in that low, drawn-out tone of his that always promised trouble, “I won’t judge you if you don’t want to deal with relationships right now, but a man has to take care of his body’s needs, yes? As far as I know, you’re a gourmet who appreciates being rammed with a good, hard cock just as much he likes being the one to do the ramming. Can I interest you in my new friends from the latest shipment? There was a lot of variety this time and I’m sure we can find someone to keep you company on your lonely nights.”

Chris’s “friends”, Victor knew, were free samples of very expensive and high-end sex toys sent to him by adult toy companies hoping for a review. Funniest part of this was that they didn’t actually send it to Christophe Giacometti the renowned figure skater, but rather Jizztophe the famous blogger who ran the website keysandholes.com dedicated to all things sex, including reviews for sex toys. In contrast to his image, Chris actually was a very organized person and in Victor’s opinion, the website was actually a pretty solid resource for sex ed and a good place to find answers to sex-related issues. That being said, Victor wasn’t particularly interested in Chris’s offer to introduce him to his ‘new friends’.

“No thanks, you have already shoved enough of those on me,” he rolled his eyes, though he didn’t bother looking up at Chris’s face as he did it, his gaze still focused on the movement of his right hand holding the razor while his left hand kept the sac pulled taut. “I probably have way more sex toys than a single person—other than you, of course—has any right to have. I already have my personal favorites among them, anyhow, so getting any more would be nothing but a bother.”

The rejection bounced off Chris easily, thanks to Victor’s last comment. “You’ve used them enough to have favorites, then?” His eyes sparkled. “I’m glad to know you haven’t turned into a total monk!”

“Really? I thought you’d disapprove of me relying on them while I could be seeking flesh-and-blood company.”

“Nonsense, friend, everyone deserves to love themselves! Of course, it’s always more fun with a partner, but I’m just glad you’re not needlessly depriving yourself… Why are you stopping?” Chris released his grip on himself and looked down at Victor who had leaned back and was reaching for a nearby washcloth.

“We’re almost done, just the backside left now.” Victor lightly wiped Chris’s crotch with the wet cloth and tossed it in the washbasin on the floor. He could rinse properly when they’re completely finished. “Can you take off your robe and flip over with your ass in the air?”

Chris started taking off his bathrobe, but then gave him an odd look instead of changing his position. “Can you repeat that, louder this time?” He had his phone on his hand, rushing to fiddle with the recording options. “I never thought I’d ever hear Victor Nikiforov say that sentence to me. I need to savor this.”

“Hilarious.” Chris tried his best to give him a puppy eyes look, though it didn’t really work. Cat people were weak like that. He should take lessons from Makkachin. “…Fine. Chris, flip over with your ass in the air.”

“Yes!” Chris cheered. Gleefully saving the misleading audio in his phone, he got on his knees on the bed, the waterproof polythene sheet still under the lower half of his body. Victor stood up from his sitting position on the carpet and knelt behind him, carrying the necessary items with him as he migrated to the bed. He took a moment to appreciate Chris’s shapely behind (just because he didn’t want to fuck the man didn’t mean he was blind), then slapped it lightly. “Spread your cheeks open so I can reach everything. And no, you’re not recording this, we’ve wasted enough time.” The blond man obeyed him with a pout. Victor reached for the shaving cream, which had somehow rolled away further across the bedsheets.

Suddenly the door burst open with resounding _thwack!_ sound.

The abrupt noise made Victor lose his balance and almost fall on Chris, but he managed to support himself with one hand on the bed. Both of them turned their heads towards the door in unison.

At the entranceway, there stood a very red-faced Yakov Feltsman, with an expression that looked equal parts murderous and horrified. Victor could swear that he saw the veins on his shiny forehead violently twitch, as if they were seconds away from bursting. The color of Yakov’s face was worrying him—the old man bore an uncanny resemblance with this boiled octopus dish he had accidentally ordered the last time he had been to Japan for a competition. Yakov’s mouth was also stuck halfway open, awkwardly, like he was trying to spit out a rebellious fishbone stuck in his throat.

“Yakov, are you okay?” He called out to his coach with an innocent tilt to his head. “You were supposed to return tomorrow morning, are you back early because you felt sick?”

His question seemed to drag Yakov out of whatever trance he had been trapped in, and the room walls practically shook with the force of his yelling.

“DO I LOOK OKAY TO YOU?! Is driving me to an early grave the only mission in your life, Vitya!? What the hell do you think you’re doing, screwing around with a competitor in a room that you’re sharing with me!?”

“I said I didn’t know you were coming back tonight! Besides, Chris and I weren’t—”

“Save the excuses for someone who cares! Do you think I’m blind?”

Victor was about to say “Yes?” because hey, the only incriminating thing of the situation was Chris’s nakedness, and in Victor’s opinion that was nowhere near evidence to assume any sex was taking place considering it was Christophe Giacometti they were talking about. There were enough shaving items scattered around and above the bed to hint at what they really were doing, and it was not Victor’s fault that Yakov had his eyes covered with his palm even as he yelled, thus preventing himself from examining the scene further.

“Ooooh boy,” he heard Chris chuckle, the other man’s voice surprisingly close to his ear. Victor turned his head to look at Chris and suddenly had a revelation that put his thoughts criticizing Yakov to an end.

After Victor had been startled by Yakov’s unexpected entry and lost his balance, he had ended up in a position where he was pretty much leaning over Chris’s back, his hips close enough to Chris’s to look incriminating, but still far enough that Yakov had gotten an eyeful of Chris’s ass that he was still spreading open for Victor. The razor had fallen from his hand and was now lying beside the cylinder of shaving cream on the bed, both of them hidden from Yakov’s view by Chris’s body, and considering how the scandalized man was refusing to look at them any further, he probably didn’t notice the rest of the shaving items still on the floor.

From his point of view, it probably looked like Victor was just about to ram himself into Chris’s ass for some good ol’ doggy style loving.

Victor internally blanched at the realization. Not that he had anything against the sex act itself—it was a lovely position perfectly suited to appreciate your partner’s assets or flaunt your own (Victor personally was more used to doing the latter since he had never had a partner that could rival him in the butt department). However, despite his confidence in his body, Victor would rather jump off a cliff before allowing his coach/father-figure to catch him in the middle of a sexual act. The sex act was a misunderstanding in the current case, but that did nothing to get rid of the goosebumps that were rapidly developing across his body.

He opened his mouth to defend their honor, but Yakov held out his palm and cut him off. “I’m leaving! I’ll get a drink from the hotel lounge and be back in an hour. I expect him to be gone and you to be decent when I do! And don’t even think you’re off the hook, we’ll talk about this!”

Without giving him any chance to retort, Yakov turned on his heels and stomped away while muttering angrily in Russian. Victor only caught a few words and phrases like “hair” “blood pressure” “STD” and “where did I go wrong”. He got up from the bed like a robot and closed the door since Yakov had forgotten to do so.

Chris watched him amusedly, relaxing his chin on the bed with his body position unchanged from the way it was when Yakov barged in. “So? Are you going to finish? My ass is getting a bit chilly here.”

“Excuse me for taking a few seconds to repent for scarring my poor coach for life. I think we broke Yakov.”

“He’s Russian, he’ll be fine once he downs a few shots of Vodka at the hotel bar.”

“Let’s hope so, for my own sake if nothing else. Anyway, you’re right. We do need to get moving if I’m going to be ‘decent’ by the time Yakov gets back.”

Victor resumed his position behind Chris and finally got to shaving around his anus with considerably faster motions than before. The Swiss man asked, the apprehension in his tone almost completely masked, “Just making sure, but this isn’t going to put a damper to our plans to have you visit me this summer, is it?”

“Nah. You won’t believe the kind of shit Yakov has let me get away with until now. Just because none of those messes were sexual in nature that doesn’t mean they ruined his sleep any less. Under all that hustle and bustle that man is soft as a marshmallow.” Victor ignored Chris’s amused snort at that. “So no worries, dear friend, and get ready to give me your best brand of Swiss hospitality when I’m there.”

Once he was done with the last few swipes of the razor, Victor announced that they were finished and cleaned Chris off with a second wet washcloth. He squirted a small amount of antiseptic into his hands and rubbed generously all over the skin he had just shaved first, and then reached around Chris to give his front the same treatment. Victor considered saying something to keep the younger man from getting turned on because of the relatively gentler touches (and also the fact that there wasn’t a sharp object dangerously close to his fragile body parts anymore), but from Chris’s slightly pained gasp he figured the burn of the antiseptic was already doing a good job keeping his head out of the gutter. Well, not completely, he figured. That would be an impossible feat.

Chris commented casually as Victor gripped his dick to apply the last bits of antiseptic to the base, “I wish your coach had crashed our party at this point instead of then. I would’ve loved to see you explain our current position to him.”

“Have mercy on that poor man, will you?” Victor got off the bed and handed Chris’s clothes back to him. “Now you should really leave before Yakov returns and gets an aneurysm when he finds you’re still here. I suggest you take another shower and wash everything properly as soon as you can. You’re actually supposed to apply the antiseptic after you’re done rinsing and drying off, but I wanted to be safe since it’s going to take you some time until you’re back in your room. Sorry I can’t lend you my shower right now.”

“No problem.” Chris didn’t seem to mind. “Shaving the pubic area really is more complicated than I thought. I’m glad I never tried on my own and just went to a professional the first time I decided to get a Brazilian wax.”

“Well now you know! It’s important to experience all sorts of things, right?” Victor gave him a grin that seemed innocent but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested otherwise. “Oh, one last warning, Chris…shaving is much more likely to leave your skin spotty and itchy than waxing. Not to mention other possible side effects like pimples, bumps and ingrown hairs. I tried my best to avoid giving you any cuts or razor burn, but there’s nothing I can do to prevent the itchiness that’s bound to be there when the hair starts growing back. Knowing you, you’ll probably make yourself horny trying to scratch yourself all the time, so you should probably get one of your ‘friends’ to help you, be it flesh-and-blood or silicon.”

Chris, who had finished getting dressed and was reaching for his glasses beside the Champagne bottle on the bedside table, whipped his head back at Victor, an utterly betrayed expression on his face. “Is that why you proposed that the one to win gold at Worlds shaves the other?! Avoiding itchiness was your motivation to win?!”

“Maybe~ We were drunk when we made the promise so I don’t remember things that clearly~ A good thing we were sober enough to write it down like a challenge letter at least, hmm?”

“I thought we were friends!” Chris exclaimed as he was gently pushed out of the room.

“Enjoy the itchy balls, Chris.” Victor smiled sweetly and shut the door. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic on AO3! The last fanfic I wrote was almost a decade ago and I'm so rusty, god.
> 
> Victor/Chris and Yuuri/Phichit are my BROTPs in YOI, and my hc is that Victor and Chris are 100% comfortable around each other's body but not in a sexual way, because Victor never saw Chris in that way and Chris got over the crush he used to have.  
> Also despite his tendency to cum on the ice Christophe is a very good, kind man and I'll fight for him (ง'̀-'́)ง
> 
> The username Jizztophe is a shout-out to Krtek's [lovely fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10165223/chapters/22581719) here.


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